


weather worn medicine cabinet.

by alright_alright



Category: South Park
Genre: 'cause there's a whole lot of, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Banter, Confessions, Dialogue Heavy, Drunkenness, I think?, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Pining, References to Depression, barely mentions ghosts, but it's way in the past, i'm sorry for the swearing, it has its' moments, it's kind of funny, mixtapes ol' school style, you found the pine forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 15:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alright_alright/pseuds/alright_alright
Summary: Craig struggles with liquid courage and sober bravery. Some days are longer than others. [Split into seven chapters. Complete.]





	1. Monday October

**Author's Note:**

> soooo, i try not to write serious stuff but sometimes i can't help it. i start with a little banter and i never plan what happens. i got a lot of unfinished stories this way, but i'm pleased to say that this one is done! i'm really bad at writing romance, but i'm trying to expand my horizons as a writer. it's not super romantic, but there's something there. so, yeah, any suggestions you can put below, i'd really appreciate! also, comments of any kind (cruel or delightful) are treasured! i will respond to every one of ya. if you'd ever like to collab, lemme know and i'd be down for it. we could do original works or sp. whatever you want. also, this story kinda vaguely refs my first fic on here (tetanus is the cause of all your light pollution), which is a lot funnier in the lame joke way. you don't have to read it at all, though, to get this guy. they're pretty different. i also didn’t mean to make this as long as it is. oops?
> 
> eh, i'll just let you guys figure this out for yourselves. thanks for reading my ramble here! you can read the grammatically correct ramble with your fave characters below! <3

**** “I promise ya; two strikes, no no no,  _ three _ , ya goddamn sonnuvabitch.” Craig slurs into a thrift store sweatshirt. It smells like a friend. He sniffs and tries to walk straight. 

“Why’d you drink so much, man?”

“I got the, watchamacallit, the, uh, liquid courage.” 

“What do  _ you _ need courage for? You flip off everyone you know. What can’t you say?”

“Not  _ everyone. _ ” Craig grimaces and sloppily sticks his middle finger out at Token. Token sighs and collects his friend up. 

“Come on, man.”

“No no no, I promise three goddamn strikes, or else.” 

“This wasn’t supposed to be the point of drinking tonight. We were supposed to celebrate. Two drinks, maybe three. Not a whole brewery.”

“Pft, what’s the point of that? I can’t talk about my, my, how I feel when I ain’t got something, y’know? What the fuck have I got to rejoy about, hm, how you think about that?”

“I think you’re shitfaced and you don’t even know how you feel right now.”

“Alright, Toke, alright, how come those stars are so gosh damn spanking pretty? It isn’t fair, I’m ugly and they get to be pretty and unconscious.” Craig stumbles as Token guides him back into the house. Mostly everyone is gone. “Say, say, where is pretty and unconscious now?” Token frowns.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” Token says, somewhat amused and a bit annoyed.

“Don’t be a shithead, Token, be my goddamn buddy. You’re my buddy, right, you’re a  _ good _ buddy?”

“Yeah, Craig, we’re buddies alright. Wish you wouldn’t down so much at once.”

“Why shouldn’t I? There’s no one telling me not to.”

“Craig, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. Don’t drink this much again.”

“I got locked in a goddamn asbestos house, you know that?” 

“What are you talking about now?” Token helps Craig up the stairs and sits him down on the couch. 

“Tweeks, the beast, locked me away and I couldn’t even, didn’t even talk about it. He was right there, too, he even brought it up.”

“You need sleep, man.” Token sighs and grabs a water bottle. “Here, drink some of this.”

“My blood alcohol is dandy. You realize that? I’m dandy. I’m a dandy fucking idiot.”

“Sure are.” 

“It was supposed to be three damn strikes. You know that? Three. I can’t even make half a one.” 

“We were never bowling.”

“It’s not about the, the, the, fucking alley.  _ Goddammit _ , Token! I fucked it up.”

“Definitely fucked yourself up.”

“You’re so right. Why you gotta be this way?” 

“‘Cause we’ve been friends since preschool. We’ve both seen Clyde cry. A few times in a swimming pool. You know, that kind of thing. I have to be honest with you.”

“Unborn babies have seen Clyde cry.” Craig laughs into his hands. “He does it so much.”

“Yeah, well, just think about it, okay?”

“How can I? I fucked up, fucked it all. It’s a fucking shitshow.”

“I can’t promise you much but I can say that if you drink some of this and get some sleep, things will be a little clearer in the morning.”

“I hate mornings.”

“You talk a lot more when you’re drunk.” 

“Yeah, that’s cause I break my filter apart. Just split it and, and spit on it.”

“Okay, Craig. Night.”

“Just spit on it. S’all I do.” 

“Alright, Craig.”

“Alrighty, Tokey boy. Alright, buddy. Wish you’d tell me where unconsciously pretty went but fine. I get it.”

“I don’t think you should be talking to anyone else tonight.”

“Why the fuck not, I can talk. I got the courage of ten thousand fucking buffalo maniacs.” 

“See, you’re not making much sense. I don’t think you’d be happy with what you said, especially with your perverse sensibilities.”

“Fuck you, Toke.” Craig frowns into his sweatshirt. “I got the blues. Liquid blues.”

“See what I mean? I’m shutting you in here. If you can figure out how to get out, then I guess you deserve to be socializing.” Craig lies in the darkness of Token’s room and wishes he could smell something besides the delusional powers of cheap vodka. But his breathing slows and soon he taps his chest, dreaming up something that’s both obnoxiously pretty and unusual. 


	2. Tuesday November

“So Tweek, Halloween ended a few weeks ago. How come you’re still wearing that mask?”

“Ngh,  _ what _ ? You can’t see me, can you?” Tweek looks around his house, under his bed even, but doesn’t know where Clyde could be. Tweek feels around his face, just to make sure. “I’m not wearing a  _ mask _ ...”

“It was a joke.”

“Oh,” Tweek frowns. “I don’t get it.”

“Nevermind, that’s fine, Tweeker.”

“I told you not to call me that. It’s really offensive. I’m not,” Tweek picks at his nails and cringes. “Not a meth head. I’m better now. I have three drugs I take with water, four times a week. I count the days really well. I’m not stuttering, I’m  _ trying  _ to be normal.” 

“But, your name warrants, uh...y’know.”

“Clyde,” Tweek glares. “What do you even want?”

“I’m just messing? Called just to mess and say hi.” Clyde says, unconvincingly.

“That was so unconvincing.”

“Tweek Tweak. Your parents were really mean to you, weren’t they?”

“What the fuck, Clyde? What are you doing?! I’m gonna hang up, I don’t need your shit.” 

“No, look, don’t hang up. I need your help.”

“You haven’t called since I was fourteen! What do you want from me?” 

“Hey, that’s not exactly true.”

“Yeah, it is. It was right around the time that I jumped off,” Tweek scrunches his nose up. “Jumped off that roof and you all thought I was suicidal. Depression’s not viral, Clyde, for  _ fuck’s sake _ . You can’t catch just by being my friend. It doesn’t work that way.” He laughs and the moment is kind of stained with an uncomfortable air. “I just wanted to fly anyway.”

“You’re not all that easy to talk to, Tweek.” Clyde says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re not exactly...user-friendly.”

“User-friendly? Ugh, fuck that, man. I don’t, I can’t say anything to you right now.” But Clyde doesn’t hang up the phone and Tweek finds himself muttering about nonsense. 

“Tweek,” Clyde sighs. “I’m talking to you as an old friend, asking a favor for someone else.”

“Is this about,  _ ngh _ , Craig?”

“You’re smarter than I remember.” Clyde blurts out, though he doesn’t mean it in an offensive way.

“That’s because you have shit for brains, Clyde,” Tweek does mean it in an offensive way. “Why couldn’t you just, just ask it out straight? Why the pleasantries? Is Craig in trouble?”

“You could come out with us some night. We, uh, miss you, dude.”

“I’m court mandated to take too many pills to drink with you guys. What’s wrong with Craig?” 

“He’s sobbing on the corner.” Tweek grabs his shoes as soon as he hears Craig’s muffled ‘ _ fuck you’ _ in the background. Clyde’s voice comes out a little far away. “ _ Hey _ , Craig, it’s okay to cry sometimes. Don’t flip me off.” 

“Jesus, is he okay?! How much did you let him drink? Where are you?”

“Uh,” Clyde monotones for a long fucking time and Tweek rolls his eyes. “A parking lot outside of North Park?”

“You’re fucking useless, Clyde.” 

“See! This is why no one likes you, Tweek! You’re really unpleasant and just overall, rude.”

“After all the shit you did to me in High School,  _ I’m _ unpleasant?” 

“I wasn’t awful to you.” 

“Yeah, right, man! You just started a bunch of lame ass rumors that got me sent to the fucking psych-ward and then you punched me when I got out. Let’s forget about that, though and remember how awesome best bros we all were before I cut beautiful butterflies into my fucking wrists with a paring knife!”

“If that’s the way you want to se---”

“Why the hell would I  _ want _ to see my adolescence that way? It fucking sucked!” Tweek pushes his hair back and grabs his bag. He heads out the front door to his car. “I don’t get why Craig still hangs out with you. Other people have booze.”

“You don’t own him, Tweek.” Tweek scoffs. 

“I’m not possessive,” Tweek says, a bit surprised by the accusation. “It’s just, you’re a shitty friend if you think pouring alcohol on it will fix anything. Alcohol isn’t duct tape, it’s like cheap masking tape that never sticks to anything. It doesn’t do shit.” 

“Well, we’re outside of the old Mobil. You,” Clyde says with some resentment. “Better get here soon. He’s going off the deep end. I don’t know what he’s talking about.” 

“Fabulous. Thanks.” Tweek says curtly, hangs up the phone. He starts up his Crown Victoria and pulls out of the apartment parking lot. 


	3. Wednesday December

“Did you,” Craig looks like he’s about to barf and he’s still got tears streaming down his face. There are bags under his eyes, sweat all over his forehead and his hair looks like someone poured motor oil all over it. “Did you get him? I don’t wanna wake his little head up. He’s usually awake though.”

“Yeah, he was awake, Craig. Just like last month when we did this to him. He’s coming to get you. Again.” Craig’s eyes are wide and uncomprehending. 

“Shit, I look awful, I bet. Clyde would you tell me if,” The tears keep streaming. “If I look somethin’ brave here?”

“Uh, you want the truth?”

“My mom hates me,” Craig laughs maniacally and Clyde thinks, for the fifth time today, that he’s glad he doesn’t have Tweek as a housemate. There’s no telling what awful habits Craig’s picked up from that guy. “Did ya know that I don’t hate her even though she hit my guts up? She called me a liar, too. Tweeks says she’s unstable.”

“Well, Tweek is unstable.” Clyde says, uncomfortably. 

“He’s fucking pretty, though,” Craig sighs into his hands. “He’s a beautiful person, you know that, right, Clyde? Fucking funny, something else, that guy.” 

“Craig. Don’t say that around anyone else.” Clyde bites his lip and clenches his fist a little, though it’s not a conscious effort. 

“Why the fuck not? He’s my guy, I love my guy, man, he makes me feel sane.”

“Just about anyone would feel sane standing next to him.”

“Don’t, don’t say it that way man. Why you hate him soooooo much?”

“I don’t hate him. Look, you just can’t go around saying you love the guy. People are gonna...y’know.” Clyde picks at his beer bottle. 

“‘Get a wrong idea’?” Craig finishes, somewhat sarcastically and tips on his side so he’s lying on the ground. He attempts rolling his eyes but he just looks like he’s dying. 

“Exactly! See, I’m only trying to help you. You already live together, y’know.”

“Fuck you, man, I got couraging liquid stuff...and I can do the shit I oughta. You don’t get it. You don’t get it, how I feel.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you drink that much vodka.”

“I was real flying high though. Things were nice and now I gotta,” Craig gets an awful look on his face. Clyde kneels to pat him on the back as Craig makes an ugly sound. Headlights approach the gas station. Clyde knows it’s Tweek. He remembers the car from last month. It’s cleaner than it was. Craig puked his guts up in it a month ago. Tweek probably still is a germaphobe, so even the headlights are sparkly new, even though it’s old and junky. Craig wipes at his mouth roughly and lies back.

“You alright, man? Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I’m not fucked but I gotta piss,” Craig looks around at the shrubbery and gently touches a plant. “Hello Mister Bush.” Craig frowns at the greenery when it doesn’t move in the wind, like it should respond to a greeting. “Hey,” Craig sticks up his middle finger. “Right here, pal.”

“I’m not helping you out with that.” Clyde hoists Craig up and watches Tweek exit his car. 

“Craig, ngh, again?” Tweek runs over and grabs Craig’s other arm. “I thought we, I thought you were gonna try not to do this, man. We were turning over new leaves and, ngh, everything!”

“I had a dream about you, you were so happy. I was really fucking es...estat...Tweeks, wasn’t there something else to go on with that word? It doesn’t just end at estat.”

“Ecstatic, Craig.” Tweek mumbles. 

“There were flowers, too,” Craig ruffles Tweek’s hair. “It was all over your head, though. We---” Craig doubles over and starts laughing. Tweek glares at Clyde. “We ate chocolate pudding and saw a donkey, it was so happy. A happy dream. That’s what you are, Tweek.”

“Uh huh.” Tweek mumbles, barely listening. “Let’s, ngh, let’s walk to the car. We’re gonna buckle you in. You’re not going to puke all over it this time, yeah?”

“I’m sorry I’m a dickwad to you, Tweek. I’m real fucking spanking sorry.” Craig sighs, a bit melodramatically. He looks at Tweek so dopely, so pitifully stuck on him that Clyde feels a little sick about. He’s just gotta help Craig meet some girls. Then he can forget about Tweek. The kid’s a psycho, Craig really just fell under his weirdness. That’s all it’s about. Tweek probably’s got him on something, that’s why he’s always talking about him.

“You’re not a dickwad,” Tweek says under his breath. He pulls open the car door. “Do you need to do anything before you get in?”

“Huh?” Craig looks around, confusedly at Tweek. Tweek rolls his eyes.

“You gotta puke or piss, man?”

“Yeah.” Craig says thoughtfully. 

“Alright. You think you can walk over there yourself?” Tweek points to some wooded area behind the abandoned gas station lot. 

“I’m not, not shitfaced.” Craig blinks. 

“I’m glad. You got it in you to be a big kid?”

“Yeah. I gotta piss.” Craig walks, somewhat clumsily, and makes it over to the trees. Tweek rests his back against the car and exhales loudly. 

“Hi Clyde.” Tweek settles with. 

“Hey Tweek. You look angry.”

“So do you. I don’t get why though. You know what happened last time.” 

“I’m not mad.” Clyde says, coolly, like there’s nothing else to talk about.

“I don’t get why you hate me!” Tweek pulls at his hair. “I don’t, ngh, I really don’t get it, man! What’d I do to you?”

“I don’t hate you.” Clyde sighs. “I think you’re psychotic. I don’t think it’s the best thing for Craig. But I don’t hate you.”

“Look who’s possessive now.”

“He can’t,” Clyde groans uncomfortably. “He can’t swing that way, okay? It’s not right.”

“Jesus, Clyde! The fuck does that have to do with me?” Tweek twitches, looks at the strings on his fingers and pulls at them.

“C’mon, I know you guys are,” Clyde sneers. “Y’know.”

“No, I don’t know, Clyde! Shit, do you have to be so goddamn cryptic?!”

“He fucking loves you, dude.”

“I, ngh, should hope so! We’ve been friends for seventeen years! I’m sure he loves you, to---” 

“No, no, Tweek, I get it,” Clyde gives an irritated look. “Whatever, Tweek. Not everyone is going to take it as well as I am.” Tweek looks very confused and frustrated.

“Take what? Ngh, you’re such a, such a fucking ass, Clyde! Just tell me what you’re talking about!” Craig begins to wander over from the woods and Clyde walks to help him out. Tweek unbuckles the back seat and maneuvers Craig’s slightly ineffective body into the car. They buckle Craig in. 

“‘m gonna sleep beautiful dreams.” Craig mumbles incoherently. He grabs Tweek’s head and pats it fondly. Tweek cringes and backs away. 

“Gross, dude! You didn’t wash your hands.”

“...head worked..fucking ghosts.” Craig laughs and his eyes are shutting. Tweek shuts the door and looks at Clyde.

“Do you, ngh, need a ride?” Tweek offers, somewhat awkwardly, ‘cause he’s still a polite guy. “Maybe you can tell me what the fuck you’re on about.”

“I guess. If you’re going near Main.” Tweek doesn’t say anything, just gestures offhandedly to the passenger’s door and gets in the driver’s side. Clyde sighs and gets in. 

“Tweek, why don’t you come back here and I can get to know you better.” Craig half shouts and slurs. Tweek rolls his eyes. 

“I think I’ll pass. I gotta drive us all home ‘cause your drunken ass wanted to haul it to abandoned North Park. Again.”

“Oh.” Craig sighs loudly and Tweek starts up the car. The drive is pretty silent and soon, Craig’s snoring. Tweek glances briefly at Clyde. 

“I wish you’d tell me what you meant back there…”

“Tweek, you know damn well what I’m talking about so let’s just forget it, okay? Craig’ll come to his senses someday.” Tweek makes a face. 

“What, and stop drinking with you?”

“Hey, what’s your problem with me?”

“You get him shitfaced and I have to hold his head back so he doesn’t drown in his own puke. It’s scary, man, I’m scared for him.” 

“I just let him talk.”

“How can you hear him with that bottle on his face?”

“Fuck you, Tweek.” Clyde snarls and takes a drink from his bottle. “You know, it’s his life. He can do what he wants with it.”

“You, ngh, you r-really think he wants to drink this much?”

“How would you know? You never see us. You never even try.”

“Clyde,” Tweek begins as he comes to a stop sign. “You p-punched me in the face after I got out of the ward.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“I just can’t wash out that. I can’t,” Tweek turns the heat down. “I can’t.”

“You want to know why I punched you? You threatened suicide every time someone was mean to you. It’s a shitty thing to do. It’s disturbed. You’re disturbed.”

“I didn’t threaten to do anything! I didn’t even try to talk to you.” 

“When you told Craig about it----” Tweek makes a clicking noise and starts to laugh a little. 

“I didn’t tell him anything. I didn’t care. Do you not understand how suicide, ugh, Jesus, Clyde.” Tweek shakes his head and laughs a little, though it makes Clyde uncomfortable. He gestures to Craig in the back. “He found a noose in my room. I didn’t tell anyone about it.” 

“It was convenient when it happened, is all I’m saying.”

“Oh, fuck that, Clyde. I didn’t plan to kill myself according to your social life,” Tweek stops the car at the movie theater. “You awake enough to walk from here? I gotta be honest, I don’t feel like digging up old graves. I stopped doing that in college.”

“Yeah, no. Thanks for the ride.” Clyde gets out of the car and opens the back door to look on Craig. Tweek doesn’t look back. Just drums his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. 

“You’re nurturing his alcoholism, hope you know that.”

“I’ll see you around, Tweek.” Clyde shuts the door with a slam, Craig stirs and fumbles to pull off his seat belt. Tweek leans back and taps Craig’s knee. 

“You good, dude? You need some water?” He asks quietly. 

“You’re so damn tolerant. I’m such a,” Craig grumbles with a bit more sobriety than he showed previously. “Fuck up.”

“Nah, you’re not. I’m just trying to keep you alive.”


	4. Thursday January

He is an expert on conspiracy theories. He drinks decaf in the mornings and caffeinated as soon as the sun leaves the sky. The streets are colder when he walks them. His air frosts. He’s a retired junkie and his best friend is an alcoholic. Christmas still stings freshly and he wonders if Craig will make it through to spring. His phone rings. He’s sure it’s Token or Clyde. They’ve been calling him nearly every night Craig has off. Craig goes out, gets wasted and Tweek picks him up. Then he ignores him until he’s under enough alcohol to put an elephant to slumber. It’s been this way for at least six months and Tweek is sick of it. He reluctantly picks up the phone. 

“I used to be a morning person.” He says into the phone. “Where are you now?”

“Token’s.” If Craig weren’t constantly wasted lately, he would’ve said ‘ _ Do you ever sleep anyway? _ ’. They used to talk a lot, but now it’s just Clyde on the other end. Clyde, who hates his guts.

“I’m tired of this, Clyde.” He hangs up the phone and proceeds to get in his car, to retrieve someone who’s barely said two words to him sober in a year.


	5. Friday February

“You have to go to AA.” Tweek says abruptly. It’s five in the evening and Craig’s just woken up with a killer headache. They haven’t had this conversation before. Craig looks past him. 

“I’m not an alcoholic, Tweek.” Tweek glares and stalks around Craig’s room, overturning things. Craig cringes. “Hey, hey, man, don’t do that.”

“Why?” Tweek pulls out empty bottles after empty bottles and puts them on the floor. He crosses his arms and looks down at Craig. “I mean, you wanna tell me that, that this is normal?!”

“Don’t yell.”

“Fuck, Craig! I didn’t, I didn’t become friends with you ‘cause you were forty percent alcohol!”

“That’s an exaggeration.” 

“Not by much! Why do you do this? Why,” Tweek looks around desperately before he plunks on the bed next to Craig. “Why do you have to...drink so much?” Craig gets up.

“You don’t get it.” He walks slowly towards the bathroom. Tweek lies back, feels something prodding in his neck and pulls out a whisky bottle. He chucks it next to the others on the floor. 

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying! I really don’t get it man! That’s why I’m asking you!  _ Argh _ , you’re so annoying, man.” Craig saunters back in the room. “I  _ want _ to understand.” Tweek says, looking at the ceiling. “Is life just boring? Are your friends,” Tweek frowns. “Boring to you? Are you depressed?”

“Not at all.” Craig winces. 

“Clyde’s such a douchebag.” Tweek says, tight lipped.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Why do you have to hang out with him?”

“I don’t know, buddy.”

“Can’t you just  _ try _ AA out? Or see a therapist? Look, I’ll even talk to some people. I know a lot of doctors!”

“You want to be social for me? I’m touched.”

“You should be. I only leave this house for you anyway. When you get so pissed that you start complaining about fucking ghosts and petting donkeys.”

“What else do I say?” Craig bites his lip. “Y’know...when I’m---” Tweek raises an eyebrow at Craig. 

“Shitfaced?” Craig scowls and looks away. “Nothing that makes sense, but you sure do talk to me a lot more then. What happened, dude?” Tweek drums his hands on his stomach. “Why can’t you,  _ ngh _ , even sit with me sober anymore?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tweek.”

“Dude,” Tweek scoffs. Craig looks at him sheepishly. “Dude! Come on, really?”

“What?”

“Don’t just ‘what’ me.”

“I have to go, Tweek.” Craig says, anxiously.

“You’re leaving,  _ ngh _ , already?” Tweek jumps up and blocks the door. Craig gives him a look. “Yeah, I’m seriously blocking the door.”

“This is really immature.”

“Well, alcoholism’s pretty fucking dated, Craig! I’d say we were a good pair.”

“I have to meet Cl---”

“Like hell you do!”

“Tweek, plea---” Tweek shakes his head. 

“Uh uh, there’s no way you’re going out tonight. The weather channel sai---”

“---I told you not to watch that station. It just makes you paranoid.”

“Well, okay, you’re not really around much anymore so I’ll put whatever the fuck I want on the TV! Okay, Craig!? Fair enough?” Craig stares Tweek down and tries to reach behind him to the doorknob. Tweek bats his hand away. 

“Fuck you, Tweek, just let me out.”

“The weather channel  _ said _ there’s a blizzard. I don’t want you to die.”

“Why do you care so much what I do?”

“Because! You’re my best friend! Or, were,” Tweek slides down against the door. He picks at his shoes. “I guess Clyde’s there for you more than me now, huh?”

“Twee---”

“I know, I know. You’re not,  _ agh fuck _ . I know I’m not mentally... _ sound _ all the time but I, I thought --- I mean, I didn’t think.  _ Argh _ ! Clyde tells you how nuts I am, doesn’t he?”

“No.” Craig lies.

“You’re such a liar, man. It’s okay. I know I’m, I just thought that maybe you’d wanna spend time with me more than, than him. You know? I, I don’t wanna p-pressure you, man. It’s just, he’s a fucking douche,” Tweek throws his arms in the air, somewhat pitifully. “And you’re the opposite.”

“It’s not about Clyde, Tweek.” Craig sighs and sits down across from Tweek. He looks at the strings on Tweek’s fingers for the first time in a while. He didn’t notice the colors were all different. Craig points to one on his pinky. “What’s that one for?”

“It’s so I can remember what day it is. Pinky’s Friday.” 

“Oh.” Craig points to another finger, which has three. “What about those?”

“Antidepressants. So the attic doesn’t catch on fire.” Craig smiles a little. 

“Why would the attic catch on fire?”

“If I don’t flip the lightswitch twice at night, it will. So that’s what this does.”

“What about that one?” Tweek frowns and looks at his thumb.

“Something I keep forgetting to do.”

“I thought these were supposed to help you remember.” Tweek looks at Craig incredulously and exhales. He nods slowly.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they’re there for, man.” Tweek exhales four times, like Craig used to tell him to do and gets up. “If you decide to go out, I don’t think I can get you tonight. Clyde was right. It is your life. I just _ , ngh _ , I hope you know what you’re doing.”


	6. Saturday March

“Why didn’t you ever tell me he hit you?”

“It never came up.” Tweek picks at his apple and looks at his shoes. It’s nice to be awake in the daylight. Craig eyes him carefully. “It was a long time ago, dude! It wasn’t really relevant until...well, you,” Tweek peels at the apple. “I dunno, man, I just don’t get why he hates me so much.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Yeah, he does. It’s fine, I guess he’s only an asshole.”

“He used to be your friend.”

“That was before he told the counselor I was certifiable.”

“ _ He _ told on you?” Craig makes a disgusted face. Tweek nods. “Shit, man, I didn’t know any of this.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. You found the rope anyway. There was a lot going on.” Tweek says nonchalantly and bites down on his apple. 

“I still can’t believe he hit you.” 

“Right in the sucker, too.”

“Don’t call it that. It sounds really perverse.”

“Well, the whole thing was perverse.” 

“If you call your mouth that, you sound like a hooker.”

“Eh, I guess the terminology,” Tweek smirks. “Rubs off. I’ve been spending my nights on Saber’s corner lately.”

“ _ What _ !” 

“Well, how do you think I bought this apple?” Tweek waves the apple around Craig’s face and he looks pretty disturbed.  “Our own lil’ red light district.” Tweek hums.

“What!” He sputters. “What are you, are you  _ serious _ ?!”

“Jeez, you sound like me,” Tweek laughs. Craig looks at him still pretty wide-eyed. Tweek rolls his eyes dramatically. “I’m just kidding, Craig! I’m not trading tricks. Think about the germs!”

“I didn’t think you were.” Craig lies a little bit.

“I mean, I am up late hours, though.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

“I do know a lot of dealers. Any one of them could’ve set me up. I got a mind map of the best and worst parts of town.”

“But you’re  _ not _ .” Craig says slowly. 

“I  _ have _ had cash coming in. Blondes do go for a lot. And look at these pegs!” Tweek sticks his legs out. 

“Tweek, you’re such an idiot.”

“Nah, if I’m an idiot, I wouldn’t sell it as well as I do.”

“Tweek. You’re not.” Tweek just smiles into his apple and hops on his feet.

“I’m r-really proud of you, dude. You haven’t,” Tweek holds onto the apple core and looks around for somewhere to put it. He returns his attention to the conversation. “It’s been two weeks! That’s fucking awesome. You’re doing so well.”

“Thanks, bud.” Craig says, a little embarrassedly. He takes the apple core from Tweek and throws it in the woods. They watch it soar before it soundlessly hits melting snow. They continue walking. 

“I  _ mean  _ it, man. I know how bad it gets sometimes.”

“Yeah.” Craig looks away. 

“Dude,” Tweek grins and stops Craig. He holds onto his shoulders. “You got this, okay? Everything is going to be okay, you just gotta breathe. Four times over, yeah?”

“You sound like me.” Craig snorts. 

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of studying.” 

“Mm?” 

“Definitely. I’ve been amassing data on how the elusive ‘sleazebag’ species functions. I got a big file on you, dude. Since you’ve been home more, you know,” Craig laughs. “I got my favorite habit of watching your pretty face back, too,” Craig widens his eyes. Tweek stops and scrunches his face. “Fuck, oops.”

“What did you just say?”

“Oops?” Tweek asks, hopefully.

“No, no, before that.”

“Fuck?” 

“Tweek! Don’t be that way, just,” Craig asks exasperatedly. “What’d you say?”

“That I watch you!?  _ Ngh, _ not in a creepy way, though! I, agh, jesus. I just  _ missed _ you. I don’t watch you sleep or anything... _ anymore _ .” Craig just stares at Tweek. “You were always sleeping anyway! I couldn’t,  _ ngh _ , expressions, you know?” Tweek looks around pathetically, like he’s asking for a way out of this conversation.

“Tweek, that’s so...” Craig starts off. “Watching me is your favorite habit?” He’s not sure what to make out of this. Tweek’s a pretty strange dude. Maybe he just thinks Craig’s interesting to look at. Like he’s amusing or something. It’s probably not what Craig thinks.

“It’s not  _ too, ngh,  _ I d-dunno, creepy, is it?” 

“A little bit, yeah. You must be bored. I don’t do anything. What happened to your piano?”

“I can do both.” Tweek says, a little unsure.

“Oh.” Craig doesn’t really know how to talk about these things and neither does Tweek. 

“Yeah.” Tweek mutters. “Look, we’re gonna, um, be late for the yoga.”

“Do I have to go?” Craig groans. “I suck at it.”

“Don’t be perverse, Craig.” Tweek jokes, though now that he’s said it, he’s pretty sure it fell flat and is leaving them both feeling awkward. “You gotta go. They said it’ll,  _ ngh _ , help out, to, um, meditate and shit.”

“‘ _ Meditate and shit _ ’ should be their slogan.” Tweek rolls his eyes again. 

“Alright, Craig.” 

“No, no, I’m serious. All it’s done is make me less constipated.”

“Well, isn’t that a  _ g-good _ thing?!”

“I’m not complaining about  _ that _ . But, I hate doing that cow cat thing. It’s pretty awkward.”

“You’re pretty awkward, man. You’re just supposed to relax. That’s the whole point of it. You’re not supposed to stress out about it.”

“Plus, whenever I see you do it, I just wanna laugh.” Tweek frowns. 

“Alright, Craig, alright.”

“No, no, seriously, you look like a prehistoric creature, just figuring out how to walk. It’s really funny.”

“See, this is why that file on you is so big, Craig. You say shit like this. Fuck, I don’t have enough strings on my fingers to remember it.” Tweek shakes his head. Craig just smiles, under his hood. 


	7. Sunday May

Even though this spring is colder than the winter has been, Craig feels better.

Craig eats orange slices in the morning. He likens to the rain and the pouring sound it makes. It reminds him of the way his sister used to walk; gingerly and deep. Like each movement would break apart if she were to reach too far.

It’s been a week since his mother left, a week since he broke a finger punching a brick wall. A long time since he’s smelled vodka, a month since he’s woken up regretting every choice it took to get here. It’s a good feeling. He feels like he’s floating, but not in the sad clownish way he used to go about life. The dusk spreads and folds, Craig yawns and checks the time. He probably shouldn’t have come here. He opens the door to the car (or, Victoria the Victoria, as Tweek refers to it), exhales and looks for Clyde. He spots him, right inside the store, picking out rum he probably couldn’t afford. Token is lingering behind, on his phone. It’s all a very familiar scene and Craig would be lying if he didn’t say that he missed their carefree company.

The glow gets kicks at him oddly. He feels melancholy and his head’s gone back to middle school. On any Sunday in May, Clyde would’ve been joking and laughing with Tweek about some shitty comic book they loved. Token would’ve debated with Craig, about school politics and El Caminos vs. Rancheros. Clyde’s magic brownies would calm Tweek for a while. They all thought his zen was hysterical. They wouldn’t have been outside this goddamn liquor store. They would’ve been running along the river, attempting baseball and Tweek would cover for Craig’s cheating ass when they played cards. In the late afternoons, Token would put them up against level twenty bosses and Clyde would heal everyone as the campaign’s cleric. Craig would play his shitty mixtapes in his room alone at nights, wishing he’d have to courage to give them to the person he made them for.

Token doesn’t debate anymore. None of them play games. Clyde’s a stereotype for everything he used to hate. They don’t have the time to run, to imagine. Tweek doesn’t play piano, barely listens to music, anymore. And Craig’s a recovering alcoholic about to enter a liquor store.

The door clunks overhead. Craig’s impressed he made it this far without cracking and it’s only been three months clean. Tweek says he’s proud of him every chance he gets. Somehow, it makes things a little worse. He’d be pretty disappointed if he knew where Craig was, but Tweek wouldn’t get it. He has to make peace between everyone. They’re really too old for this shit.

“Want some company?” Craig offers and Clyde turns around, looks at him a little surprised. Token glances up from his phone and smiles.

“Hey! Craig, dude, where you been?” Token asks. He keeps texting with one hand. “Sorry, business. You know how crazy things get.”

“I’m sure he does.” Clyde mutters. Craig frowns and focuses his attention back on Token, who doesn’t feel any tense air.

“Are you coming with us tonight? We’re seeing Stan and Kyle.”

“They’re back in town?”

“Mhm, they’re visiting their parents. Just got back from some indie movie shoot in Utah. It’s about a vending machine and a soccer mom. Claimed to be ‘ambient’ and ‘atmospheric’.”

“Huh.”

“I know,” Token grins. “That was my reaction, too. So, you coming with?”

“I don’t drink anymore, Token.” Token widens his eyes.

“Really!” Token whistles. “I never thought I’d see the day. Wow, man. Well, good for you.”

“Thanks.”

“How long has it been?”

“Almost three months, I guess.”

“Should you be in here? Wanna go outside? Here,” Token chucks his wallet at Clyde. Clyde catches it with ease and doesn’t look back at them. Token shakes his head. “Let’s get some air.” Craig’s pretty relieved when they leave the building.

“Hey, Toke.” Craig says.

“Hiya, Craig. I’m glad you got sober. You feel good?”

“Yeah, actually. I do.”

“I was concerned about you. You made me nervous in October. You were starting to remind me of my uncle.”

“Shit, has it been since October? I blacked out the better part of the last year.”

“That’s understandable. How’s Tweek doing?”

“He’s,” Craig says. “Alright.”

“Just alright?”

“Things have been a little difficult for him lately.”

“I wish he’d come out of that house more. It’s been, what, two years since I’ve spent more than five minutes with him? I miss the guy. Remember all those crazy conspiracy theories he and I came up with? Man, I miss those days.”

“You could come over. You both could.”

“I don’t know about Clyde, but I’d be down.”

“Tweek’s convinced Clyde hates him.”

“Mm,” Token hums thoughtfully. “Clyde says that you picked sides.”

“Christ, Token, this is stupid. There shouldn’t _be_ sides. We’re adults. We should at least be civil.” Token gives Craig his _‘are you an idiot’_ look. Craig is annoyed that he missed this guy.

“I mean, come on. There always were sides, Craig,” Token shakes his head. “You were so wrapped up in Tweek. Still are, I bet. Have you even said anything to him yet?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Craig mutters. Token just laughs at him.

“Good god, Craig, it’s been at _least_ fifteen years. You’re pathetic.”

“Am not.”

“Indolent. What happened to you? You used to tell everyone exactly how you felt.”

“Not everyone.” Craig flips Token off.  

“I’ve never seen him as upset as he was when he saw you shitfaced last October. The dude’s devoted. That’s all I’m saying.” Craig picks at his hands. Clyde emerges from the store. Craig straightens up his face.

“Hi Clyde.”

“Craig.” Clyde says slowly, with his eyebrows crossed.

“Craig just invited us over. We have,” Token looks at his phone. “ _Some_ time before we meet those guys,” Clyde opens a bottle and starts drinking. Token glares at him. “Dude. Come on. Don’t be immature.”

“I’m just thirsty.” Clyde says and sticks the bottle in front of Craig’s face. “You all set?” The smell is so strong. He knows what it’ll taste like coming up and he tries to think about that. But was easier, for a while, wasn’t it, when he could drink something and it’d make him forget how awkward it is to live? Token pulls the bottle out of Clyde’s hand, before Craig really gets to offer a good reason for taking one sip. He frowns at Clyde instead, directs his anger at him.

“Why are you so fucking pissy? Can’t you grow up?”

“That psycho has you whipped!”

“Don’t, Clyde.” Token says.

“He’s not a psycho! He’s much stabler than me!” Craig shouts and stares Clyde down.

“That’s ‘cause living with him has leeched itself onto you! His crazy is _yours_. I can’t tell the difference between the two of you anymore!”

“He’s not fucking insane, Clyde! God dammit, you'd realize that if you actually talked to him for once.”

“You’re delusional.”

“He used to be _your_ friend! Why are you such an asshole to him? You guys were close.”

“Why do you only care about he feels? That’s your number one concern, all the damn time. You’re so fucking enthralled. It’s disgusting.”

“Clyde, come on, don’t do this tonight.”

“No, Token, fuck you! I need to get this out. I’ve tried to help Craig for years, ever since Tweek told me in ninth grade.” Craig softens.

“Did he tell you he was depressed? Did he tell you before me?”

“Shit, Craig, you’re goddamn pathetic.” Clyde laughs grimly.

“Did he?”

“No, he didn’t.” Clyde shakes his head, like he gives up.

“What the hell did he tell you, then?”

“He thought,” Clyde starts and he feels uncomfortable saying it outloud but he’s stewed on it for quite a few years. Clyde doesn’t know why it bothers him. He’s not alone, the subject bothers his whole family, their religion. All he knows is that it’s wrong. “He loved you and I told him it was wrong. He said it wasn’t. He knew a lot of hookers,” Clyde pulls out the word like it pains him. “They don't care who does who. I couldn’t save him; he wouldn’t listen to me. So I bet him that he wouldn’t get into heaven.”

“Christ, Clyde.” Token mutters. Craig wants to punch, cry on and hug Clyde at the same time. He knew Clyde had some prejudices but he never thought he could be so angry at Tweek for something so innocent. Craig probably should say something. He’s been quiet for a while, trying to absorb the rotting friendship they had all these years and what Clyde has finally released. He doesn’t care what he says to the two of them and he’s not sure if he says anything at all. Everything blurs, the neighborhoods, car headlights, his sloppy driving. Tweek would yell at him if he saw him drive like this, _especially_ with his baby. It’s a stupid junk car, though and he’s still stopping at every stop sign. Full stop, even, Victor Victoria's brakes can suck it.

* * *

 

Craig’s pounding on the apartment door before he realizes where his two feet are. He has keys but they seem like they’re gonna take forever to find and he doesn’t really feel like waiting anymore. Tweek’s little radio was hastily shut off the second Craig started knocking. He beams at the scrambling he imagines Tweek is doing and thinks he should probably say something reassuring.

“I’m not a serial killer. It’s me, man.” Craig says. Tweek opens the door, slowly and his fingers spider out around the latch.

“Hello, Me Man,” Tweek says, sarcastically, when he’s sure it’s Craig standing there. “What happened, did you lo---” Tweek’s cut off when Craig hugs him. “Dude, what the fu---”

“Shh, man, just let this happen.” Tweek hangs his arms at his side and flails them about for a second, like he’s not sure where they go. It’s been awhile since he’s let someone hug him.

“You don’t smell drunk.” Tweek’s voice rumbles and Craig doesn’t want to let go.

“I need to be drunk to do this?” Craig asks, somewhat hurt.

“Well, yeah.” Tweek blinks, dumbly. Craig lets go of him and grins. He points animatedly at Tweek.

“Stay where you are, I’ll be right back.” Craig runs to his room, leaving Tweek a little stunned. Tweek, superstitious and defiant as hell, follows Craig. He’s rummaging through boxes and boxes in his closet.

“What are you doing?”

“You were supposed to wait.”

“But you’re so _slow_ at finding shit. I wasn’t gonna stand in that doorway forever. You know it’s bad luck, unless there’s like, mistletoe or something. Then it’s bad luck if you _don’t_  do it.”

“Tweek, I’ve never heard of that as bad luck.”

“I’m pretty sure it is…”

“I think you’re full of shit, buddy.”

“Maybe, I’m a little,” Craig continues rummaging and Tweek glances around. “What’re you looking for anyway?”

“Something I forgot to give you a long time ago.”

“What, my socks? ‘Cause I already bought new ones, Craig. I lent them to you over a year ago,” Tweek gasps. “Are you, _ngh_ , finally gonna give me my sweatshirt back?!”

“No,” Craig pulls out a small box and opens it. He smiles. Inside are ten cassettes. “You know what these are?”

“Bootlegs?” Tweek sits on the floor. “Jeez, your room is messy.” Craig shakes his head.

“Mixtapes I made from the seventh grade until senior year.”

“You want me to have your angsty teenage mixtapes? I’m so confused, Craig.” Tweek says wide-eyed.

“No, shit, Tweek. They’re not angs---wow,” Craig looks at some of the titles on one of the earliest ones. Wow, seventh grade is just Bright Eyes. “Okay, so they’re a little angsty. But,” Craig sighs and hands the box over to Tweek. “I made them for you.”

“How come you’re just giving them to me now?”

“I saw Token and Clyde tonight.” Craig blurts. Tweek frowns a little. “I didn’t drink anything, not even a slip up. Don’t worry. Clyde told me something I didn’t know, about the real reason he doesn’t talk to you anymore,” Tweek doesn’t say anything, make noise or change expression at all, besides clenching his jaw. “And I thought since _I_ know how you felt, it'd only be fair if you could know what I felt like.” Craig finishes, a little nervous. Tweek pulls out a couple of the tapes slowly.

“These must, m-must’ve taken a while to make.”

“Y-yeah,” Craig croaks and half laughs. “I ruined a lot, at first.”

“‘ _Naomi_ ’s a little stalkerish.”

“I was a little stalkerish.” Craig admits. Tweek furrows his brows.

“Who were you stalking?” Craig laughs. “What? I don’t get it!”

“Tweek, just,” Craig grins, shaking his head. “We can play them, if you want.” Tweek smiles a little.

“Y-yeah, sure.” Craig picks up his trusty old stereo and jams one of the tapes in. Tweek flips over some of the cassettes. “ _Let Me Turn Back to You_ ...I don’t think I, _ngh,_ know that one…is that one of your cheesy-ass seventies tunes?” Craig takes one of the tapes.

“You think you’re so accurate.” Tweek gives Craig a raised eyebrow.

“Oh no, dude,” Tweek groans. “It’s Poco, isn’t it?”

“Fine, smartass, you’re right. I think this one’s from eighth grade,” The radio is muffly, cackly and old. Craig’s stupid, young voice sounds through the speaker and oh, he forgot he did that. He covers his head. “Oops.” Tweek starts laughing hysterically the second he hears that high-pitched nasally voice.

 _“I’m gonna give this to you --- I mean, I gave this to you. Cause you’re listening. Also, if Token’s listening, fuck off. This is for Tweek. I know you hate sappy songs. Nothing else fits the feeling, so you’re gonna have to listen and not complain. Here goes a third try. I’m a wimp if I don’t give it to you after this one’s done. But you’re listening. So I gave it to you. Uh, yeah._ ” Craig’s fourteen year old voice abruptly cuts off and the Rolling Stones start playing ‘Loving Cup’, though the recording is shitty.

“Fuck, Craig,” Tweek’s grinning and Craig’s still not looking up. He’s cringing. “I wanna hear the others. Do you talk on all of them?”

“ _Ugh_ , yeah,” Craig says squeezing his eyes shut, regretting this a little bit. “Yeah, I probably did.” Tweek’s looking at all the hand-written titles and he can’t stop smiling.

“You went through so much work. Why’d you do this for _me_?”

“Because I loved you.” Craig says, pretty obviously, like Tweek’s stupid. Tweek widens his eyes, like he’s just starting to realize that you don’t put cheesy love songs on secret mixtapes unless you y’know, love someone. Especially Poco. That's like, the death sentence of drowning by romantic gloop. 

“W-what?” Tweek stutters and it puts Craig back in high school. He feels incredibly nervous, and it rushes. Now he’s wondering why he decided to tell Tweek at all. “S-say, say th-that again, explain wh-what, wha----” Tweek starts hyperventilating.

“Four breaths.” Tweek shakes his head frantically.

“No, I, t-tell, _jesus_ , you mean you----and---” Tweek

“Yeah, look; you just gotta breathe in, buddy.”

“A-are you still,” Tweek shakily puts one of the tapes next to Craig. He pushes it towards him. “Is, is it still true?” Craig flips the tape over and ejects the one that’s playing. He puts the one Tweek pushed towards him in the tape player. Tweek starts twitching a little. Craig winces.

“ _I’d kill the fucking moon for you_.” Craig’s younger voice comes out through the speakers. Then Tom Waits starts crooning on about love and Tweek looks at him with his eyebrows pulled together.

“Still true.” Craig mumbles. Tweek beams and leaps clumsily towards Craig, knocking him over in a weird type of tackle. It surprises Craig a lot. “Shit, Tweek! What the fuck?” They land in a heap, both half on the floor and half on each other.

“You still, _ngh_ , love me? Cause I love you! A whole fucking lot.” Tweek smiles sheepishly. Craig grins like a fool and pulls Tweek close. “I, I wouldn’t have cleaned up anybody else’s puke.” Craig scrunches his nose up.

“Way to ruin the mood.”

“I dunno, I,  _ngh_ , thought it showed pure love. I _really_ hate germs. They freak me the hell out! But I helped you up from some of the,” Tweek shudders. “Dumpiest shitholes. That’s how much I care. I only got _real_ love for you, Craig.” The light is warm, soft and the air from outside is easy drifting. It’s an evening breeze that Craig’s felt before, but never in this light. He's never felt anything in this light. It carries the scent of fresh soil, greening grass and dampened concrete. Tweek’s breathing rumbles softly over him. The music is still boasting and for the first time since he made the last mixtape, Craig doesn’t wish for the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all, folks. thanks for reading the gloop. let me know your concerns, suggestions below and i will type back. i really appreciate comments. i welcome rough constructive critiques. it makes me a better writer.
> 
> oh, also, if you wanted to know the songs i was thinking of, here they are: 
> 
> naomi: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Ooj6pEd6YM  
> stones: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-atuvoMXVw  
> poco: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IrasJJWnlY  
> waits: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3W-5nwr1aY


End file.
